Smoke and Mirrors
by loellen
Summary: A/U! Callie Torres is an orthopedic surgeon at Seattle Grace-Mercy West Hospital. Arizona Robbins is a pediatric surgeon being wooed by Seattle Presbyterian along with several other hospitals across the country. When both women are kidnapped in the middle of the night, is it a case of 'wrong place, wrong time', or the work of some ghosts from the past?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Any and all copyrighted materials belong to their respective owners. The use of people and names is meant only for fictitious use and is in no way meant to be libelous of defamatory. I'm simply the chick manipulating the aforementioned things to her will. :)**

* * *

"Ma'am?"

A woman's voice brings me back to consciousness, and I can feel hands roaming over my abdomen. I try to sit up, to swat the hands away - anything. But when I attempt to move, I'm met with a jolt of pain seemingly throughout every inch of my body.

"Ma'am," she repeats, "I- I need you to s-stay still, all right?" The voice is shaky, hoarse. I force my eyelids open, even though they feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. A downward glance reveals a petite blonde woman palpating my abdomen.

"Doctor," I correct, and cringe at how hoarse my own voice is. My eyes wander around the room as I attempt once again to prop myself up. Alarms go off in my head as I note the absence of furniture, a door knob, and any source of light apart from a single barred window on the opposite side of the room.

"Doctor? Small world. Dr. Arizona Robbins," the blonde introduces herself, removing her hands from my abdomen and extending one. I take it, and my grasp steadies the shaking appendage.

"Dr. Callie Torres. Where the hell are we, Dr. Robbins?" I ask as I pull myself all the way up. Her blue eyes are now trained on my brown, and I can see she's terrified. _Who could blame her?_

I quickly scan my company's body, checking for any obvious injuries as she's already done for me. I'm alarmed to see two very distinct, small, circular burn marks at the nape of her neck. I've seen those burns before - on people who've been tased.

At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Robbins could hear my heart beat from where she is sitting, two feet away.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Dr. Torres. Do you remember anything that happened before, well, this?" Dr. Robbins asks. We're now both seated against the wall closest to the door. I rub the back of my neck and cringe. _Bastard got me too._

"Do you?"

"No, not really," she admits, her features scrunching up in frustration. She looks back at me, expecting me to answer the question now that she has.

"Eh. It's foggy, but it's there..."

"Well, maybe if you tell me what you remember, I'll remember some parts you forgot, and we can figure out why you and I are," she motions her hands about the room, "in this little situation."

I figure this is as good of an idea as any, and begin explaining what I can recall.

_It was a normal day. Well, except for the fact that I was off work for more than five minutes. I needed some more coffee and different household necessities, so even though it was nearly two in the morning, I decided to make a quick trip to the convenient store down the street._

_There were only a few people in the gas station: the clerk, a blonde woman in the junk food section, a man dressed in a dark hoodie wandering about aimlessly, and myself._

_As the cashier rang up my things, I was having trouble locating my credit card. I smiled apologetically at the pretty blonde woman who was waiting patiently behind me. She returned the smile, her eyes lighting up and her dimples popping._

_That was the last thing I saw before the gunshot that took down the cashier went off, and an electrical current shot through my entire body, effectively knocking me unconscious._

Dr. Robbins nods as I break down the events, seeming to remember some extra details, just like we'd hoped she would.

"Just had to have my donuts." She shakes her head and lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. I cock my head to one side, confused.

"I'd just gotten in town," she begins to explain, "and I had a meeting with Seattle Pres' Chief of Surgery the next day - today, I guess - so I was a wee-bit nervous. In hindsight, I probably should've made the donut trip the next morning, huh?"

I laugh half-heartedly, but say nothing more.

Who brings a taser to a stick-up? Who kidnaps people afterward? Something's just not right about this.

Correction: _nothing's _right about this whole thing.

"So... what's Callie short for?"

"Hm?"

"Callie. It ends in an 'i-e', and that usually means it's short for another name," Dr. Robbins elaborates. I look in her direction and raise an eyebrow. _Is now really the best time to play twenty questions?_

Not wanting to make this situation worse by being rude, I answer, "Calliope. But only my father calls me that, so-" I'm about to give her the 'don't call me that' talk, but a _click_ only a few feet away from us grabs our attention.

Logically, the only person coming through that door would be our captor or whatever, so despite being in varying amounts of pain all over my body, I jump up, instinctively pushing my companion behind me.

I can hear her breath shaking and can practically feel her whole body shivering, so I reach backward to give Dr. Robbins' hand a reassuring squeeze. I just met her, but I've always been the protective type - no one's going to hurt her if I have anything to say about it.

I narrow my eyes as a man walks in the room. He's armed, so any thoughts of overpowering him fly out of my mind as soon as they'd come. _I'm an orthopedic surgeon, not a WMMA fighter._

He shuts the door behind him, and since he's in no hurry to speak, I keep my mouth shut as well, and take a moment just to study him.

At first glance, I can tell that it's the man from the convenient store; he has the same hoody on as before, but this time, the hood's down, revealing his extremely tan complexion, dark eyes, jet black hair, and five o'clock shadow. Clearly hispanic.

He circles us several times, like a tiger preparing a strategy of attack. I match him move for move, not once letting him out of my sight and not once letting him near Arizona.

Apparently, he finds something about my demeanor amusing, because he begins to chuckle callously.

"What?" I grind out between my clenched teeth, not amused in the slightest. This only causes the man to laugh more, and that _really _pisses me off, but it also makes him stop circling us like prey, so I leave it at that.

"_Nada_, _Reina_," he sneers deprecatively, "just watching your little puppy guard act. _Preciosa."_

"Why the hell do you have us here?" A strong voice demands to know from behind me, and it takes both the scumbag and me by surprise. Arizona trades her backseat position for one directly beside me and is wearing a look that would surely make _me _cower.

Watching his smirk grow larger, though, it's plain to see that our captor doesn't quite agree.

"That, _mi amor, _is for me to know, and for you to find out," he lets out a dark chuckle, "if you're around long enough."

I swallow hard, and I can see Arizona visibly shrink under his menacing gaze, but we both remain standing tall. _Looks like this bastard's not getting the satisfaction of making us squirm. Not now, at least._

"Well, since it seems neither of you are feeling very talkative at the moment, I'll be going. Trust me, _tenemos_ _mucho tiempo_ to get to know each other. I just wanted to make sure you were both nice and comfy. Any complaints about your accomodations?"

If I clenched my teeth any tighter, I'd break them. I step forward marginally, but a wave of his gun, and I stop dead in my tracks._ It'd be pretty damn hard to get home if I was dead._

"_Maravilloso! _Well, it's been a pleasure, ladies. My name's Javier, and Pedro will be bringing by dinner shortly, so I'll be going. _Hasta luego," _Javier purrs, and I have to bite back bile as he grabs my hand and places a sloppy kiss on it. _Note to self: scrub that skin off ASAP._

With another _click_, the door is shut, and I let out a ragged breath. I turn to Arizona and I can see tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

Without thought or hesitation, I pull her into my arms and stroke her hair soothingly. We remain like that for several minutes, trying desperately to find comfort in the midst of such a seemingly hopeless situation.

Soon, Arizona gathers herself, and pulls out of my embrace. When our eyes lock, I can still see fear, but I also recognize gratitude and trust. _Being held hostage together makes for quick friends, huh?_

"So... Calliope, you said? I like it. It fits you."

"You know, normally, I'd tell you to call me Callie, but anyone who has to be held hostage with me for an indiscernable amount of time can call me whatever they want."

* * *

**Well, what'd you guys think? This is my first time 'round the block, so constructive criticism or feedback of any type would be greatly appreciated! Thanks. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Okay, um, wow! Thank you all so much for all of your wonderful reviews, favorites, and alerts!**

**Oh, and I thought I'd go ahead and add that I plan on doing this story almost entirely in Callie's point of view. I might throw in some third person omniscient a couple of times, but that's it.**

**Without further adieu, here's the next chapter. Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: Any and all copyrighted materials belong to their respective owners. The use of people and names is meant only for fictitious use and is in no way meant to be libelous of defamatory. I'm simply the chick manipulating the aforementioned things to her will. :)**

* * *

I sit in silence as Arizona dozes, the only sound in the room being her soft snoring. I normally don't care much for snoring, but the sound soothes me, reminds me that I'm not alone.

As Javier had promised, Pedro brought us a meal - if you could call it that - about an hour ago that had consisted of two slices of bread, milk, and carrots. It wasn't much, but it had stopped the loud grumbling both of our stomachs had been making since we woke.

Oh, and apparently, it would be rude to not allow us to relieve ourselves, so every five or six hours, we get to be escorted separately to a dark, dingy, smelly bathroom. We even get to shower in two days! _Thoughtful, right?_

With Arizona unconscious and unable to keep my mind off of more serious matters, my thoughts go everywhere. It's terrifying not to know where we are, or why we're here, or how long we'd be here. No matter how I look at the situation, it doesn't add up. I'm no detective, of course, but you'd think I'd at least have an _idea _as to why I may never see my friends again, may never repair my relationship with my family, may never perform another surgery, again.

I guess at some point, I started crying, because suddenly I'm shaking and my breaths are short and shallow. _Calm, Callie. Calm down; you have to stay strong._

Before I know it, a pair of toned arms wrap around me, and Arizona's whispering soothing words into my ear. My eyes flutter shut, and finally, I allow myself to fall apart in her embrace.

She doesn't tell me everything's okay - everything's certainly not _okay_ - but in her arms, it's easy to trick myself into believing they will be, and soon, my breathing returns to normal, and my tears are silent and few and far between.

"Better?" she asks, and I nod slowly.

"Thank you," I whisper hoarsely. She pushes a lock of hair out of my eyes, leaving a trail of warmth where her fingers brush against my skin. A small smile appears on my lips as I pull away.

A few moments of silence pass before either of us do or say anything. I don't want to risk her falling asleep again, so I decide that now is as good of a time as any to get to know my new roommate, or whatever she is.

"You should tell me about yourself," I say as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Calliope? In a situation like this?" Her voice is emotionless, distant. _She doesn't think we're going to make it out of this alive._

"Look, Arizona. You and I, we're stuck here. I'm _not _sure I want to do that; I'm not sure of _anything _anymore. I lost that luxury the second I went in the store for freaking _coffee _and came out with a _taser _to my neck. But you know what I am sure of? I'm sure of the fact that if I'm not distracted this second, my mind will go to all of those scary, dark places that make people go insane. So yeah, I think this is a pretty safe alternative." My nostrils flare and my chest heaves as I finish my rant. I hadn't meant to snap, to say all of that, but I can't do this alone, and she needs to understand that.

Arizona's eyes are unreadable for a moment, but then they're soft. The fear that's been there since the moment I first looked into them is mixed with a new fire that I recognize to be determination.

We're in this together.

No words are said, and none need to be. We both know the severity of this situation, and we both know that despite the fact that hours ago, we were strangers, we are now all we have. We need each other.

Instead of stating the obvious, she chooses to return to my earlier request. "What would you like to know about me, Calliope?"

"Everything. Anything," I say, scooting closer to her. The temperature in the room was probably fifty below freezing, and as my hysteria wore off, so did my tolerance to the cold. "I just think that since we're going to be together for such a long time, we might as well know each other."

Arizona smiled, her dimples popping. I guess in my state of shock, I had failed to notice just how _beautiful _she really was. _I suppose I could've been kidnapped with worse company._

"I'm sorry, I left my autobiography at home," she teased at the vagueness of my request, "but if you ask me some specific questions, I'd be happy to answer."

I roll my eyes playfully. "Okay, smarty pants, let's start out with something easy. Where are you from?"

Arizona laughs lightly. "Where am I _not _from? I was an army brat - I grew up all over the world. Germany, California, Virginia, Texas, Japan, Massachusetts. The last place I lived was Boston, though, so that's what I put down on paper."

"Interesting..."

"What is?"

"It's just, your name. Was your dad orginally from Arizona, or your mom, or...?"

"Nope," she begins, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips, "Most people _think _I was named after the state, but really, I was named after a battleship, the USS Arizona. My grandfather was serving on it when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and saved 19 men's lives before drowning. Pretty much everything my father did was about honoring that sacrifice, and that included my name, raising me to be a good man in a storm, teaching me to love my country, love my friends, love my family, and protect the things that I love. "

Arizona's gaze had drifted away from me as she spoke, her mind in some far off place that only she had access to. I don't say anything for a few minutes, taking in and processing the information I'd just been given, and just allowing her to enjoy her escape - however temporary it was.

Some more silent moments pass, then Arizona shakes her head and turns her attention back to me. With a small smile, she says, "Okay, my turn. Where did _you _grow up?"

I cringe internally. Thinking of home only reminds me of my family; the family that decided being bisexual was synonymous with selling my soul to the devil. "Miami, the Florida one," I answer quickly, covering my discomfort with a rueful smile and a wink. _Please, leave it at that._

Whether it's because she notices the distaste I have for that subject, or because she's satisfied with my answer, I don't know, but she skips over to a new question either way.

"What do you do? I know that you're a doctor, but what kind?"

"Does superstar with a scalpel count as a classification? If not, then I'm the head of orthopedic surgery at Seattle Grace-Mercy West," I say, grinning proudly. If there's one thing in my life that I have a right to be proud of, it's my career as a surgeon. Remembering the situation we're in, though, I silently add, _Or, I _was.

Arizona's face lights up in what I can only guess to be excited disbelief. "You're a surgeon?" I raise an eyebrow and nod slowly. "I'm a surgeon! Not an orthopedic surgeon, but a peds one."

Her child-like excitement makes me laugh, like really, really laugh, and the noise is almost startling. Our entire conversation has been in varying volumes of whispers, always aware that there is someone constantly outside of our door.

I slap my hand over my mouth, and we're both deathly quiet for the next five minutes. When the door remains shut, though, we giggle quietly in spite of our pounding hearts.

"So what hospital do you work for currently? You didn't list Washington as one of the places you've lived..."

"That's because I haven't lived there, yet," she says and smiles softly, then looks down. _And I may not ever._

The unsaid sentiment hangs in the air for several seconds before she instead adds, "I work at Massachusetts General right now, but Seattle Presbyterian and a few other hospitals have offered me jobs." I nod, remembering how she'd said she had a meeting with Seattle Pres' chief scheduled before this.

"All right, so let me get this straight. You're a perky peds surgeon, you live in Boston, you turn to donuts in a time of need, you were an army brat, and you were named for a battleship. That's impressive, Dr. Robbins, I must say," Arizona blushes at my summary, "So... you have a boyfriend waiting for you at home?"

The blonde laughs at some joke that I'm not privy to, and I narrow my eyes in confusion. Apparently, my expression only adds to the hilarity, and she laughs for a few seconds more before explaining.

"Oh, Calliope. Boyfriend? I don't do.. anything with a penis. And no, I don't have a girlfriend, either," she states, unabashed. She watches me closely, testing my reaction to her admission. I can't help the shock that crosses my face - what are the odds that two surgeons, who happen to be interested in women, are kidnapped together? _Hate crime, maybe?_

When I take too long to respond in any way, she says, "You're okay with that, right? I mean, I would certainly hope you are, because we're kind of stuck together for an indefinite amount of time, and as much as I-"

"Arizona."

"-dislike homophobes, I would hate to make this-"

"Arizona!" I hiss, "Of course I'm okay with it. Hell, I'm more than okay with you being lesbian, because _I am too. _Well, not _exactly _a lesbian, but still. I just can't believe the odds."

Arizona's lips part and form a tiny '_o_' shape. I can see the wheels start turning in her head, probably piecing together the same information as I had.

After a minute, my suspicions are confirmed. "You don't think that they kidnapped us _because_ of our sexualities, or occupations, do you?"

I purse my lips. "I've thought about it. But how could they have known that you and I would both be at the same store, at the same time, have the same jobs, and have the same, er, interests? That's just too much. Besides, I don't know about you, but I haven't had many stalkers lately."

"You're right," she sighs heavily, "I just.. I feel so helpless, so clueless. I can't handle the vulnerability; it's eating me alive. I thought, maybe, that knowing..." her sentence dies on her lips, her eyes filling with tears for the second time since the beginning of this ordeal.

"That knowing would help get us out of here? I know, Arizona. I know. We're going to make it out of here, all right? You and me - we're going to be fine," I promise her fervently.

Do I know that's true? No. But the alternative is too unbearable to consider, so it's the only outcome I'm willing to think about.

Arizona bites her lip and nods her head, her eyes closed as she fights back the tears threatening to spill over. My reaction is automatic; I close the few inches separating us and wrap an arm tightly around her shoulders. She turns her head and rests it on my shoulder, and I expect tears to come, but they don't. _She's trying to be a good man in a storm._

"Do you think they're looking for us?" Arizona asks, her head still laying on my right shoulder.

"I'm sure they've been looking for us for hours now, Arizona. You just watch; we'll be out of here in no time," I mumble into her hair.

Arizona nods in agreement to my statement, and as I stroke her hair soothingly, I pray to God that I'm right.

* * *

**Well, what'd you guys think? Oh, and should I show what's happening back at home next chapter? Maybe some more Pedro and Javier interaction? Let me know!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'd like to just say a huuuuge thank you to all of you amazing people who leave me reviews and story/author favorite and alert! It really makes writing this story THAT much more fun and leaves me with a huge smile each time.**

**Anyway, hope you all enjoy this next chapter! :)**

**Disclaimer: Any and all copyrighted materials belong to their respective owners. The use of people and names is meant only for fictitious use and is in no way meant to be libelous of defamatory. I'm simply the chick manipulating the aforementioned things to her will. :)**

* * *

_"Dr. Robbins, I was terribly disappointed that you weren't able to make it to our meeting today. I do hope we'll be able to reschedule soon, and that you're well. Goodbye."_

Javier chuckles to himself as he erases the message, amused at the irony of capturing not one, but _two_ doctors. _I always was quite the overachiever_, he thinks smugly.

"Sorry, doctor, but I don't believe you'll be rescheduling anything any time soon," he says to an empty room, and continues to go through his blonde prisoner's cell phone.

* * *

"Torres! Open the freakin' door!"

Mark isn't sure if he's more pissed or concerned, and judging by the looks he's received from his neighbors in the time since he started banging on Callie's door, he's not the only one.

"Cal, I'm coming in if you don't open the damn door right now!"

Still not getting a response, Mark goes back into his own apartment and grabs the spare key Callie gave him a couple of months ago in case of an emergency. He'd used it on a few occasions over time to pick up things for the busy orthopedic surgeon, but this is the first time he's been forced to use it.

As soon as the door opens, Mark steps inside and he rakes his eyes across the empty room. It's spotless, as usual, but there's no sign of an unconscious Callie.

When Hunt had told Mark to go find Torres, Mark had been expecting her to be passed out in an oncall room, or in her own bed. It wasn't like Callie to blatantly ignore pages, but he still hadn't thought too much of it.

He'd checked all of the oncall rooms in the hospital, interrupting several angry doctors and nurses, to no avail, and a cursory glance at his friend's bed proves that she isn't here, either.

_Maybe she stayed with her flavor of the week, _he thinks, but soon he hears the all too familiar _beep, beep, beep _of a pager and his eyes shoot to Callie's bedside table. He takes the few steps to Callie's bedside, and he takes note of his best friend's wallet, cell phone, keys, and pager all in a small pile.

Now Mark knows something's wrong. Callie wouldn't go anywhere of her own accord without these things, yet there's no Callie to be found. He turns quickly and notices the vast majority of her drawers and closet to be ajar, the contents strewn haphazardly on the floor. _Someone's been here, and it wasn't Callie._

Just as Mark is about to whip out his phone and call _911_ a knock sounds from outside of Callie's apartment. He narrows his eyes in confusion as he makes his way to the front door.

He peeks cautiously through the peep hole, and is shocked to find two uniformed officers on the other side. He throws open the door, and both police officers' hands fly to their sidearms.

"Woah, woah, I'm not gonna do anything," Mark says, throwing up his hands. The officers relax, slightly.

"Who are you? What are you doing in Calliope Torres' apartment? The landlord said she lives alone," the officer closest to Mark demands, his eyes scanning a very distraught Mark and the apartment behind him.

"I'm here looking for _Callie_ because she's been AWOL for nearly twelve hours. I'm Mark Sloan, a surgeon at Seattle Grace-Mercy West Hospital, as is she. Now, who the hell are you, and why are you here?"

The two men stare each other down, and the second officer (a woman) simply stands back, waiting for the testosterone to die down.

"I'm Detective Jefferson, and this is Deputy Keenan. We're here because of a shooting that occured at around two a.m. this morning that _Callie _was involved in," Jefferson explains, emphasising Callie's name in the same voice Mark had use just a moment before.

Mark's mind flies to the worst possible scenario, and he struggles to maintain his composure.

Seeing Mark's distress, Deputy Keenan clumsily adds, "She wasn't killed! It's just, that, well..."

Detective Jefferson throws his hand up, stopping Keenan from rambling on. _Amateurs - they never know when to show discretion._

"She's missing."

* * *

"Up!" I hear, and suddenly I'm wide awake. I glance down to see Arizona's head on my lap. The blonde's eyes shoot open a fraction of a second later, and soon we're both standing, preparing to once again face our captor. According to the color of the sky outside, it hasn't been three hours since their last visit. _To what do we owe this honor?_

"Listen up, _perras_. Someone finally noticed that you're gone," Javier's gaze lands on me, and I assume this means some sort of announcement of my kidnapping has been released. A small amount of hope rises up in me, but is soon diminished when he adds, "So now we have to move you. Pull any funny shit, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes ."

Neither Arizona nor I speak, and he must take our silence as submission, because he then beckons Pedro to his side.

Since I was brought up speaking Spanish my whole life, I'm able to clearly understand what they're saying to each other. Whether they're aware of this, I don't know, but then they mention that they plan to move us to Wyoming and are just waiting for the word to take us to Miami, and my eyes widen. Apparently, Arizona notices, because she almost inaudibly asks, "What are they saying?"

"They said they're going to move us to Wy-"

"_**Quiete!"**_ Javier comes over and slaps me harshly across the cheek. I gasp involuntarily and my hand shoots up to smother the burning that is now spreading across my cheek. My vision blurs when tears well up in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away.

Arizona protectively steps between us, and Javier raises his hand to deliver a blow to her as well, but thankfully, he lets it drop back to his side after a moment's consideration. A sadistic glint flares in his dark eyes, and he barks out a laugh. The animalistic noise makes me cringe.

"You've got another thing comin', _muñeca_, if you think there's anything you can do to protect her. Oh, and by the way, _Dr. Robbins, _Seattle Presbyterian called, and they were terribly upset you couldn't make it to your meeting today. Shame," he sneers.

"You have our shit?" I exclaim before Arizona gets the chance to react to his taunting, then steel myself in place, expecting another slap. When no blow comes, though, I puff out my chest slightly. _He's not getting the satisfaction of making me cower anymore._

"Not yours; _your shit, _as you so eloquently put it, is back in your apartment. We didn't know where Dr. Blondie was staying, though, so we had to keep it. Can't be giving the police any easy breaks."

"How the hell do you know where I live?" I spit through gritted teeth, my confidence faltering due to this new piece of information. Arizona looks at me questioningly, and I break my death glare that is currently directed at Javier to give her a clueless shrug. They _shouldn't_ know where I live. _Unless..._ _have they been watching me?_

I only get a belittling laugh in response from Javier, and if it weren't for the fact Arizona is clinging to me like a lifeline, I'd probably be across the room and more than likely be getting myself shot by now.

Javier and Pedro discuss how they're going to get us to Wyoming for a few more minutes, then Javier turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Not a minute passes before he returns with two pairs of handcuffs and strips of cloth. _I do not like where this is going._

Javier hands the items to Pedro, and the larger man saunters up to Arizona and me, ordering us to turn around. I hesitate for a second, but the sight of a gun protruding from the waistband of his jeans quickly convinces me to join Arizona. I hate feeling so weak, so powerless, but what other choice do I really have?

First, he secures a pair of cuffs around Arizona's wrists, then he walks around to stand in front of me. I can feel a '_what the hell?'_ look form on my face, but it's quickly replaced by disgust as he presses roughly against my front. The bulge pressing against my lower abdomen causes bile to rise up in my throat, and the urge to throw up only intensifies as Pedro reaches behind me to secure the handcuffs in place.

I look over to my left to see Arizona silently seething in rage as she glares at Pedro. I attempt to smile reassuringly, and tell her that it's okay with my eyes, but I know it just comes out as a grimace. _In what fucked up universe is this okay?_

The cuffs are locked nice and tight around my wrists a moment later, and I'm expecting Pedro to step away, but instead he grabs my ass firmly and out of pure instinct, my knee rockets upward and makes a solid connection with his groin. _Oops._

Pedro doubles over in pain, a strangled grunt coming from his mouth, and he stays that way for several moments. Arizona bites her lip, trying to not burst out in laughter, and I find myself doing the same.

That is, until Pedro stands up and in the same swift movement, removes his gun from his pants and repositions it, against my jaw.

In spite of the panic threatening to take over my senses, I can see Javier move briskly to push Pedro away.

"Now, now, _pendejo, _you should know better than to play with the boss' toys. You don't get to break them simply because they don't work for you," Javier admonishes.

Pedro simply glares at the floor as Javier proceeds to take the cloths and tie them in place over mine and Arizona's mouths. He's a lot more gentle, and for that I'm sort of grateful, but I don't entertain that thought for long.

As someone who grew up in a wealthy household setting, I was taught at a young age about kidnapping and hostage settings, and I know what he's trying to do; he wants us to see Pedro as the pushy, abhorrent muscle man, and himself as the generous and merciful saint or whatever.

But I won't be trained into liking this bastard.

Javier grabs me by the arm, and Pedro does the same to Arizona, and soon we're being ushered out of the small building that's been our prison for what seems like an eternity, but in actuality, was probably only twenty-four hours. I can feel fear rising to the forefront of my emotions at the thought that once I step out of this building, those steps may very well be the last ones I ever take in the state of Washington.

I don't let my emotions show on my face, but I look over to Arizona, and as I watch tears fall silently down her face and soak the cloth covering her mouth, I want nothing more than to rip myself away from Javier and comfort the crying blonde that's quickly become my only source of sanity. Knowing that would only make things a hell of a lot worse, though, I manage to refrain from doing so.

We soon step outside, and the feeling of fresh, cool air entering my lungs is overwhelming. I normally hate the rain - after all, I did grow up on the sunny beaches of Miami - but now, I feel like I've stepped into pure heaven as the water pours down over us. I silently swear to myself that if we make it back, I'll never complain about the weather again.

All too soon, we're being pushed into a dark blue SUV that was parked behind what appears to be an old store of some sort that was forgotten about in the years of its vacancy._Great place to keep a couple of stolen doctors, huh?_

We pull away from the empty lot, my head falls downward, and as I stare intensely into my lap, I pray as fiercely as I know how that this will _not _be the last time I see Seattle.

* * *

**Well, there we go! There were few more hints as to why they're in this predicament, and a little glimpse of what's being done to get them out of it. Let me know what you guys think! :)**


End file.
